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torstai 16. lokakuuta 2014

Sofia's Christmas song



I write a sentence that carries 
over to the dark water. 
The tears of the bright brittle pearl necklace tea. 
Christmas angel wings whether or not broken, 
white feathers too mired? 

Horns wool mixture stuff the truth now, 
an angel at one of the twang. 
Is melodious sound of it, 
it falls through the darkness. 
Christmas has become a celebration of God's son. 
Christmas The church bells echoes with the sounds, 
Now, remember the magic of Christmas. 

I remember the morning of childhood, 
under the fleece of sheep soft California. 
The church we drove to his sleigh; 
perched on a brown horse. 

Christmas new song echoes with the sounds, 
I remember the good old time. 
It is time for a wonderful childhood, 
gilded trophies. 

Now the land upon may be, 
the white blanket of snow. 

Horns wool mixture stuff the truth now, 
an angel at one of the twang. 
Is melodious sound of it, it falls through the darkness. 
Christmas has become a celebration of God's son. 
Christmas The church bells echoes with the sounds, 
Now, remember the magic of Christmas. 

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